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Gary Franchi Covers The Oregon Mining Dispute

Gary Franchi

Gary Franchi, of the Next News Network, did a video piece on the Sugar Pine Mine, in which he interviewed Stewart Rhodes, and Mary Emerick, the Public Information Officer of the Josephine County Chapter of Oath Keepers.

[ot-video type=”youtube” url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOrU2jImMGg”]

JOSEPHINE COUNTY, OREGON | A story we’ve been tracking for days now – THE BLM is up to old tricks this time – a Gold Mining claim in Oregon at the Sugar Pine Mine – I reached out to Oathkeepers founder Stewart Rhodes and Mary Emerick, Josephine County Oathkeepers Public Information Officer to get the facts on this edition of Breaking Point on the Next News Network.

So what do we know right now? We know the BLM is attempting to force Gold Miners off a plot of land they’ve been using for nearly 140 years and Reports have surfaced that the BLM threatened to BURN down buildings on site if the miners don’t vacate the claim.

We also know the independent Militia, from coast to coast, has been called up to once again to ensure that due process is upheld and to prevent the BLM assault on the miners.

However we know all too well that the government has no problem burning down buildings and avoiding due process we saw it in Waco, 22 years ago, when they indiscriminately murdered women and children.

We know according to two affidavits posted at Oathkeepers.com, a BLM official, only identified as DANNY, has openly declared that he “has issues with the constitution” after he served Cease and Desist Orders.

Mary Emerick Confirmed a staging area has been set up and camp rules established to govern the arriving private security forces:

She would not divulge how many people have arrived on site but she was clear to point out the Oathkeepers intentions.

Meanwhile Sheriff Dave Daniel stated, the BLM are not taking action at this time. And BLM Special Agent Mike Swindon also stated the BLM is standing down.

People close to the situation are requesting that all parties interested in preserving the constitution remain on STANDBY because of the BLM’s history of deceptive and dishonest tactics.

Stewart Rhodes Confirmed the these facts when I spoke to him moments ago.

So if you want to stand up and defend these miners report to the staging area at

2491 Camp Joy Road Grants Pass (Merlin), Oregon, 97526

All responders and media personnel are required to check in at the staging area before going to the camp site.

So far the media has been dead silent on this an only the alternative media is reporting on this.

If you have a stake in liberty and you don’t want to see another WACO please do your part, and share this report. It could save a life.

Also please leave any links to resources or articles on this story in the comments section we want to make sure we have a repository of information when people watch this report.

As always like share and subscribe to our channel that is how we grow.

For the next News Network I’m Gary Franchi

 

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Shorty Dawkins

Oath Keepers Merchandise

6 comments

  1. Executive order 13132 is the Federalism order that BLM has to follow. Look uo the one from 1999 and then look uo the subsequent ones. See if the BLM is following the current one. Article 1 § 8 cl 17 requires “Cession” by the state legislature & “Purchase” by the federal govt. Not mere acquisition. If the Constitution has not been amended by Congress and Ratified by 3/4’s of the states then any executive order repugnant to the Constitution is null and void. Joseph Story made that court decision 200 + years ago. It has never been over turned.

  2. Note: Our man in charge at Josephine County, Oregon, is Joseph Rice. He is authorized by National to coordinate security there, as he was asked to do so by some of the miners. He has a good working relationship with the County Sheriff’s office and has created a staging area for newly-arriving volunteers. I have been asked to make sure that all Oath Keepers are encouraged to volunteer, to support this in any way you can, and to most certainly show up on location after first contacting Joseph Rice and his staff. We need more boots on the ground there, like now, like yesterday.

    Here is the webpage which gives all instructions for volunteering and/or supporting.

    http://www.oathkeepersjoco.com/

    Here are the email addresses for Joseph’s staff:

    CONTACTS:
    Joseph Rice
    Coordinator@OathkeepersJoCo.com
    Operation Control of Sugar Pine Mine Security

    Bruce McFarland
    AC@OathkeepersJoCo.com
    Assistant Coordinator
    Communications

    Mary Emerick
    PIO@OathkeepersJoCo.com
    Public Information Officer
    Media Queries

    Clinton Chard
    Logistics@OathkeepersJoCo.com
    Logistics Coordinator

    Incoming / Outgoing Personnel
    Supplies

    Doug Burrell
    Comms@OathkeepersJoCo.com
    Communication Coordinator

    Please note: This is not a stand-off against the BLM. This is a security gift to distraught miners who could use a helping hand. They are up against the sort of forces described by Patrick Wood of the August Forecast and Review — Technocracy is showing its ugly head in yet another BLM attempted land grab. These are American miners, and the BLM has a pack of tricks up its sleeve, and will play legal wild-cards while calling it “due process”. The miners could use some security right now, and Oath Keepers can use some quickly-arriving reinforcements. So hit that link above and do what you can. Thank you.
    Salute!
    Elias Alias, editor

  3. Matthew 13:49
    So shall it be at the end of the world: the angels shall come forth, and sever the wicked from among the just
    Hebrews 13:2 |
    Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.
    May God Bless you and surround you with the angels of Heaven and keep watch over your camp and protect you from all evil and principalities and powers of the air…In Jesus Name!

  4. THE SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE

    May 18, 1990
    Hardscrabble Miners Make Their Last Stand
    Forest Service evicts families, razes homes
    Author: SHANN NIX, CHRONICLE STAFF WRITER
    Edition: FINAL
    Section: PEOPLE
    Page: B3
    Dateline: Forks of Salmon, Siskiyou County
    Index Terms:
    SISKIYOU COUNTY
    Deceased Name: U.S. Forest ServiceKlamath National Forest

    Estimated printed pages: 9

    Article Text:
    Frank Yocum is destroying his home.
    Yocum, a 44-year-old gold miner, has lived on the banks of the Salmon River for 19 years. His mother’s irises bloom alongside the two-room log cabin, and the loft he built for his children is still filled with toys. A tattered American flag hangs over the door.
    He is almost finished clearing his belongings out of the cabin, which the U.S. Forest Service has ordered him to bulldoze and torch, under threat of arrest, fines and imprisonment.
    Yocum, a thin, bearded man with a weathered face, touches the meticulously split cedar shakes and the hand-hewn door of the historical site with reverence.
    “The old-timer here before me made this,” he says. “He was a master. Brought these panes of glass for the windows in on mule-back. You can’t get shakes this fine, even from a factory.”
    Outside the cabin is piled a chair, a lamp, a spice rack and a bathtub filled with planters and rol! ls of carpet. He will take some things away and burn the rest.
    A MISCARRIAGE OF JUSTICE
    He looks at the pond. “I know every bullfrog’s voice,” he says. “And if you wait a half an hour, four buzzards will come and roost in that tree. They like to watch the sunset.
    “They can have it, I guess. I worked hard here. Never took welfare, always took care of myself. Now they’re forcing me out onto the street. I’ve got no place to be now.
    “I’m not out to shoot them or hate the government. But this is a miscarriage of justice.”
    Inside his cabin is posted a notice, charging him with occupying federal land without authorization and maintaining structures and improvements on national forest land without approval.
    “I’ve been living here peacefully in accordance with the law of the land for 19 years,” Yocum says. “Why am I suddenly trespassing now?”
    Miners have lived on the Salmon River for more than 100 years. The 1872 Min! ing Law gives every American the right to stake one or more cl! aims, up to 160 acres, on federal land. If enough ore is found to justify a “prudent man” mining the claim, he can work the land and live on it rent-free.
    These miners felled trees, built bridges and struggled to establish a community in the forest isolation, where snowstorms or accidents can claim a person’s life, miles from any medical assistance. Without telephones, electricity or running water, they planted gardens, canned vegetables, designed water wheels to power their homes, trained roses up the walls of their log cabins and mined for gold.
    They built stores, schools and post offices, and named their communities: Sawyer’s Bar, Oak Knoll, Somes Bar, Cecilville, Forks of Salmon.
    In 1976 the Federal Land Policy Management Act gave the Forest Service the authority to resolve conflicts over occupancy on federal land. Now the Forest Service is using that power to force the mom-and-pop miners to leave the national forest, to be replaced by larger minin! g operations.
    “Society’s becoming more sophisticated. This frontier spirit is outdated. The old laws just aren’t up with the times,” says Mike Lee, the district ranger for the Forest Service. “We want larger, more efficient operations that can get in, get the gold and get out. We don’t find these homesteaders consistent with today’s standards of mining.”
    “The less occupants, the less work,” says Matt Olson, a 30-year employee of the Forest Service who retired April 7. “Every time the Forest Service removes a structure or a family, it’s one less to deal with. And the big operations pay big bucks.”
    “We built our lives on the Mining Law,” says Dan Sagaser, a 78-year-old miner who has been living in the cabin he built for 51 years. “To us, it was like the Constitution. We believed in it. We invested our lives in it. Now they say it doesn’t count anymore. I don’t understand it.”

    ARBITRARY GUIDELINES
    Four years ago, the Forest Service beg! an to issue orders to the roughly 200 miners and their familie! s who li ve in the 1.7 million-acre Klamath National Forest, saying residents must obtain permits for their cabins, proving their residences are necessary to their mining. To get a permit, miners were required to file a “Plan of Operations,” showing they were “full-time operations” performing “diligent mining.”
    Who decides what defines a full-time operation? “I do,” says Lee. “There are no written guidelines.”
    How much time constitutes diligent mining? “We can pick any number you want,” says Frey.
    The deadlines imposed on families told to leave are just as arbitrary.
    Lee acknowledges that people complain the decision-making process is unfair. “People say that they can’t win. But I don’t expect to make bad decisions. I’m not making off-the-hip decisions here.”
    Besides the stringent new regulations, miners were required to post bonds of $3,000 to $25,000 to ensure that the land was returned to its pristine state after they are evicted. The! average income of the miners is $7,500 to $10,000 a year.
    “Where am I going to get thatkind of money within 90 days?” said Yocum. “I just don’t have it.”
    Without the money to post bonds, many of the miners were unable to comply with the new requirements. In January 1988, the Forest Service sent 237 letters to miners telling them to settle up or get out. Failure to comply is met with threats of lawsuits, fines and jail.

    ONE LAST HOPE
    “They put me out of business, they made me homeless,” says Carl Eichenhofer, 44, who has just lost the claim he mined for 10 years. “Now I get to tear down my home and destroy all my assets and inheritance.
    “And they’re suing me for trespassing on a claim that I mined legally and paid taxes on for years. Suing me for what? They’ve already taken everything I have.”
    The miners’ last hope is that Congress will consider legislation to extend the existing Townsite Act – a law that allows c! ommunities surrounded by national forest to purchase land from! the fed eral government – to the miners’ homes scattered through the Salmon River area.
    Representative Wally Herger, R-Chico, wrote to the Forest Service on Wednesday requesting a one-year moratorium on evictions while Congress explores legislation.
    Thirty to 35 homes have been destroyed since the Forest Service mailed the eviction letters last year.
    “We started to burn obviously abandoned fire-hazard-type cabins with the permission of the owner,” says Olson, who was working for the Forest Service at the time. “Then it seemed to accelerate among the Forest Service guys. Who can burn more cabins? Then it turned into a race. Before the public picked up on it, we had lost 25 to 30 structures. Then we started to plan it. We started to kick people out, so we could burn the cabins.
    “I burned down cabins myself. It felt awful.”
    While the miners were out of town at a Siskiyou County Board of Supervisors meeting last November, requesting a morat! orium on burnings, armed Forest Service officials burned a cabin known as the Lowry claim, from which they had evicted three families in the past 12 months. They bulldozed the rose bushes and set fire to the flowering fruit trees around the house.
    Six months later, the charred mess remains, with melted plastic, buckled tin roofing, charred asbestos siding and shards of glass. Papery red-gold poppies still bloom neatly in a bank on the side of the hill.
    “Property of the United States,” reads a warped metal sign nailed to the trunk of a burned tree.
    “Smokey Bear sucks,” is written in toothpaste on one charred foundation.
    “They just left it here, didn’t clean up a thing,” says Kenoli Oleari, 45, a member of the Salmon River Concerned Citizens group. “I think it’s supposed to be a warning to us.”
    “Why burn the places down?” says Rex Richardson, 38, a local miner. “In this day of homelessness, some deserving person could be living th! ere.”
    “The people that built these cabins built Ameri! ca,” say s miner David Haley. “Now we’re archaic.”

    LAST YEAR ON CLAIM
    Haley lives with his wife, Nancy, and his 9-year-old son, Caleb, in the cabin his father lived in until his death last year at the age of 74. Although the Forest Service has approved Haley’s operation for the time being, they will not approve it again next year unless he brings in bigger equipment.
    “My father fought the last two years of his life to save this place for me,” he says. “I see him everywhere I look.”
    The Haley home is a knotty-pine cabin with a stone roof and hand-cut beams, set into the serene slant of the mountain, surrounded by fruit trees and hummingbirds. The river sounds in the background like rain in the distance.
    The Haleys wake up early. They light a fire in the wood stove against the chill of the mountain morning, turn on lights powered by the hydroelectric generator David’s father designed, and wash with water from their rigorously maintained wat! er system. Nancy Haley takes Caleb to school, across the river on a narrow cable bridge that sways 30 feet over the river.
    When she returns, she works in the vegetable garden, cooks, cuts wood for the fireplace and cans vegetables to stock the stone root cellar.
    David Haley goes out to mine gold, dragging his equipment in a wheelbarrow. He is a lanky man with a beard, refined to knots of muscle by his long days of mining. He stands grinning in the sunshine, his heavy waders in icy mud.
    “If they did come in and bulldoze my place, I think I’d live in a tent,” he says. “This is my home.”
    He will spend much of his time today repairing equipment, tuning up the generator, adjusting hoses and pipes. Miles from town, help or extra equipment, he has learned to weld, to make dredging machines out of bed frames, to do for himself.
    His “placer mine” operation consists of two pools of water carved into the rocky clay of the hillside, roughl! y 20 feet across. He washes and shovels dirt from the “high ba! r” where the river used to be, down through a graduated series of boxes meshed with wire.
    Any gold flakes in the muck end up trapped in a piece of blue carpet lining the sluice box. Haley figures he makes $25 to $30 a day for 10 hours of heavy labor. He keeps the gold flakes in a tiny vial, scraping them carefully into a pile with a piece of paper plate.
    “I’d like to fight the government to stay here. But I’m young, I’ve got a family, I don’t want to spend my life in prison. If I were rich, I’d hire a lawyer. But I can’t afford it. So there’s no justice for me.
    “But it makes me angry when the Forest Service says my home is a significant disturbance to the national forest, and a 40-acre clear-cut is not.”

    FOREST SERVICE CRITICS
    Some say the Forest Service is anxious to get rid of the miners because they are the last witnesses to its abusive management of the Klamath National Forest.
    “When we see the area being clear-cut, mismana! ged and sprayed with herbicides, we scream and holler,” said Lloyd Ingle, vice president of the Salmon River Mining Council.
    Even environmental organizations such as the Sierra Club support the miners’ presence in the national forest. “The amount of damage caused by the small miners is nothing compared to Forest Service timber management practices and road building,” says Sierra Club spokeswoman Susie Van Kirk. “Forest Service priorities are really mixed up.”
    In the past three years alone, the Forest Service has clear-cut and sold 201 acres of Klamath National Forest trees, in addition to the thousands of acres logged as a result of the recent devastating forest fires. Some of that timber has been sold at $2 or $3 per board foot of lumber instead of the market price of $200 or $300 a foot.
    The results of the clear-cutting are vivid up above the “view shed,” the area seen from the road, where logging is restricted. The tops of the mountains are ! three-quarters bare of trees, scabby and denuded as a mangy an! imal.
    “It’s disastrous,” says Oleari. “They’ve destroyed the Salmon Mountains. It will take 1,000 years to come back. And every single clear-cut has been approved by a Forest Service “Finding of No Significant Impact.’ ”
    As controversial as the clear-cutting is the Forest Services’ extensive use of herbicides in replanted sections of the national forest.
    In 1984, the Salmon River Concerned Citizens filed a suit against the Forest Service alleging that it failed to do an analysis, required by law, of possible irreparable harm caused by herbicide spraying. The Forest Service withdrew its plans to spray, and the suit eventually contributed to a ban on pesticides in national forests,first in California and finally throughout the United States.
    But the herbicides used in the Salmon River area had already taken their toll, according to the miners.
    “After they sprayed in my drainage, one morning two spotted owls came to drink at my water and th! ey fell over dead,” said Jerry Kramer, 69, a local miner. “We could smell a very strong chemical smell like Lysol for three or four days afterward. The next morning, I went to get out of bed and the room started spinning, and I had to lay back down. I was dizzy all day. My wife was, too. It took weeks to wear off, and I never did get all the way over it.
    “My wife just died.”
    “I think herbicide is a good management tool,” says Harry Frey of the Forest Service. “Herbicide’s not the only solution, but it’s one of the solutions. People are just afraid of it because they don’t know any better.”
    It’s more than individuals at risk here, the miners say. It is the life of a town.
    “You’re part of a community here,” says Sagaser. “You know folks, and they know you.”
    Any visit from a neighbor in these isolated hills may turn into a gathering. People stay for the afternoon, overnight or for the weekend, bringing with them food or musical ! instruments to turn the evening into an impromptu party. Visit! ors are rare, cherished and offered the best of whatever is available.
    The town of Forks of Salmon consists of a shingled one-room post office, presided over for the past 36 years by 65-year-old postmistress Gladys Stansajw; a tiny general store run by Doug McCuddy, 48, and his wife Sally, 51; and the Forks of Salmon school.
    “In a small town like this,” says Haley, “someone’s livelihood depends on how many kids are in the school.”
    The school, a bright, modern building attended by 40 children and staffed by five adults, recently took a performance of “The Tempest” to the Ashland Shakespeare Festival in Oregon, and won multiple awards in state academic competitions. All the children marched in the recent demonstration in nearby Yreka against the evictions.
    “I grew up with most of these people in the forest,” says Silas Beaver, 13. “I knew them since I was born. It would be really bad if they had to leave. They’re like my brothers. But the Forest ! Service doesn’t want us living on their land.”
    “It’s not really theirs,” says Merlin Hanauer, 11. “It’s everybody’s.”

  5. (continued from previous comment)
    ONE LAST HOPE
    “They put me out of business, they made me homeless,” says Carl Eichenhofer, 44, who has just lost the claim he mined for 10 years. “Now I get to tear down my home and destroy all my assets and inheritance.
    “And they’re suing me for trespassing on a claim that I mined legally and paid taxes on for years. Suing me for what? They’ve already taken everything I have.”
    The miners’ last hope is that Congress will consider legislation to extend the existing Townsite Act – a law that allows c! ommunities surrounded by national forest to purchase land from! the fed eral government – to the miners’ homes scattered through the Salmon River area.
    Representative Wally Herger, R-Chico, wrote to the Forest Service on Wednesday requesting a one-year moratorium on evictions while Congress explores legislation.
    Thirty to 35 homes have been destroyed since the Forest Service mailed the eviction letters last year.
    “We started to burn obviously abandoned fire-hazard-type cabins with the permission of the owner,” says Olson, who was working for the Forest Service at the time. “Then it seemed to accelerate among the Forest Service guys. Who can burn more cabins? Then it turned into a race. Before the public picked up on it, we had lost 25 to 30 structures. Then we started to plan it. We started to kick people out, so we could burn the cabins.
    “I burned down cabins myself. It felt awful.”
    While the miners were out of town at a Siskiyou County Board of Supervisors meeting last November, requesting a morat! orium on burnings, armed Forest Service officials burned a cabin known as the Lowry claim, from which they had evicted three families in the past 12 months. They bulldozed the rose bushes and set fire to the flowering fruit trees around the house.
    Six months later, the charred mess remains, with melted plastic, buckled tin roofing, charred asbestos siding and shards of glass. Papery red-gold poppies still bloom neatly in a bank on the side of the hill.
    “Property of the United States,” reads a warped metal sign nailed to the trunk of a burned tree.
    “Smokey Bear sucks,” is written in toothpaste on one charred foundation.
    “They just left it here, didn’t clean up a thing,” says Kenoli Oleari, 45, a member of the Salmon River Concerned Citizens group. “I think it’s supposed to be a warning to us.”
    “Why burn the places down?” says Rex Richardson, 38, a local miner. “In this day of homelessness, some deserving person could be living th! ere.”
    “The people that built these cabins built Ameri! ca,” say s miner David Haley. “Now we’re archaic.”

    LAST YEAR ON CLAIM
    Haley lives with his wife, Nancy, and his 9-year-old son, Caleb, in the cabin his father lived in until his death last year at the age of 74. Although the Forest Service has approved Haley’s operation for the time being, they will not approve it again next year unless he brings in bigger equipment.
    “My father fought the last two years of his life to save this place for me,” he says. “I see him everywhere I look.”
    The Haley home is a knotty-pine cabin with a stone roof and hand-cut beams, set into the serene slant of the mountain, surrounded by fruit trees and hummingbirds. The river sounds in the background like rain in the distance.
    The Haleys wake up early. They light a fire in the wood stove against the chill of the mountain morning, turn on lights powered by the hydroelectric generator David’s father designed, and wash with water from their rigorously maintained wat! er system. Nancy Haley takes Caleb to school, across the river on a narrow cable bridge that sways 30 feet over the river.
    When she returns, she works in the vegetable garden, cooks, cuts wood for the fireplace and cans vegetables to stock the stone root cellar.
    David Haley goes out to mine gold, dragging his equipment in a wheelbarrow. He is a lanky man with a beard, refined to knots of muscle by his long days of mining. He stands grinning in the sunshine, his heavy waders in icy mud.
    “If they did come in and bulldoze my place, I think I’d live in a tent,” he says. “This is my home.”
    He will spend much of his time today repairing equipment, tuning up the generator, adjusting hoses and pipes. Miles from town, help or extra equipment, he has learned to weld, to make dredging machines out of bed frames, to do for himself.
    His “placer mine” operation consists of two pools of water carved into the rocky clay of the hillside, roughl! y 20 feet across. He washes and shovels dirt from the “high ba! r” where the river used to be, down through a graduated series of boxes meshed with wire.
    Any gold flakes in the muck end up trapped in a piece of blue carpet lining the sluice box. Haley figures he makes $25 to $30 a day for 10 hours of heavy labor. He keeps the gold flakes in a tiny vial, scraping them carefully into a pile with a piece of paper plate.
    “I’d like to fight the government to stay here. But I’m young, I’ve got a family, I don’t want to spend my life in prison. If I were rich, I’d hire a lawyer. But I can’t afford it. So there’s no justice for me.
    “But it makes me angry when the Forest Service says my home is a significant disturbance to the national forest, and a 40-acre clear-cut is not.”

    FOREST SERVICE CRITICS
    Some say the Forest Service is anxious to get rid of the miners because they are the last witnesses to its abusive management of the Klamath National Forest.
    “When we see the area being clear-cut, mismana! ged and sprayed with herbicides, we scream and holler,” said Lloyd Ingle, vice president of the Salmon River Mining Council.
    Even environmental organizations such as the Sierra Club support the miners’ presence in the national forest. “The amount of damage caused by the small miners is nothing compared to Forest Service timber management practices and road building,” says Sierra Club spokeswoman Susie Van Kirk. “Forest Service priorities are really mixed up.”
    In the past three years alone, the Forest Service has clear-cut and sold 201 acres of Klamath National Forest trees, in addition to the thousands of acres logged as a result of the recent devastating forest fires. Some of that timber has been sold at $2 or $3 per board foot of lumber instead of the market price of $200 or $300 a foot.
    The results of the clear-cutting are vivid up above the “view shed,” the area seen from the road, where logging is restricted. The tops of the mountains are ! three-quarters bare of trees, scabby and denuded as a mangy an! imal.
    “It’s disastrous,” says Oleari. “They’ve destroyed the Salmon Mountains. It will take 1,000 years to come back. And every single clear-cut has been approved by a Forest Service “Finding of No Significant Impact.’ ”
    As controversial as the clear-cutting is the Forest Services’ extensive use of herbicides in replanted sections of the national forest.
    In 1984, the Salmon River Concerned Citizens filed a suit against the Forest Service alleging that it failed to do an analysis, required by law, of possible irreparable harm caused by herbicide spraying. The Forest Service withdrew its plans to spray, and the suit eventually contributed to a ban on pesticides in national forests,first in California and finally throughout the United States.
    But the herbicides used in the Salmon River area had already taken their toll, according to the miners.
    “After they sprayed in my drainage, one morning two spotted owls came to drink at my water and th! ey fell over dead,” said Jerry Kramer, 69, a local miner. “We could smell a very strong chemical smell like Lysol for three or four days afterward. The next morning, I went to get out of bed and the room started spinning, and I had to lay back down. I was dizzy all day. My wife was, too. It took weeks to wear off, and I never did get all the way over it.
    “My wife just died.”
    “I think herbicide is a good management tool,” says Harry Frey of the Forest Service. “Herbicide’s not the only solution, but it’s one of the solutions. People are just afraid of it because they don’t know any better.”
    It’s more than individuals at risk here, the miners say. It is the life of a town.
    “You’re part of a community here,” says Sagaser. “You know folks, and they know you.”
    Any visit from a neighbor in these isolated hills may turn into a gathering. People stay for the afternoon, overnight or for the weekend, bringing with them food or musical ! instruments to turn the evening into an impromptu party. Visit! ors are rare, cherished and offered the best of whatever is available.
    The town of Forks of Salmon consists of a shingled one-room post office, presided over for the past 36 years by 65-year-old postmistress Gladys Stansajw; a tiny general store run by Doug McCuddy, 48, and his wife Sally, 51; and the Forks of Salmon school.
    “In a small town like this,” says Haley, “someone’s livelihood depends on how many kids are in the school.”
    The school, a bright, modern building attended by 40 children and staffed by five adults, recently took a performance of “The Tempest” to the Ashland Shakespeare Festival in Oregon, and won multiple awards in state academic competitions. All the children marched in the recent demonstration in nearby Yreka against the evictions.
    “I grew up with most of these people in the forest,” says Silas Beaver, 13. “I knew them since I was born. It would be really bad if they had to leave. They’re like my brothers. But the Forest ! Service doesn’t want us living on their land.”
    “It’s not really theirs,” says Merlin Hanauer, 11. “It’s everybody’s.”

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